


The First Meltdown

by Jadeycakes99



Series: Autistic Castiel [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Autistic Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Meltdown, Stimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-11 12:17:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3326954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jadeycakes99/pseuds/Jadeycakes99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel has his first meltdown in front of Dean. He meant to hide it, and try to be "normal" for him, but things didn't really pan out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Meltdown

**Author's Note:**

> This story has also been beta'd by talesfromthechickpea, so this is one of my better stories.

Cas had been able to keep his stimming under control around Dean for the most part. Sure, he drummed his fingers and tapped his feet so much he must seem very impatient, but he tried to keep his stimming quiet, opting instead to smoke more than usual. Sleepovers with Dean were the best and the worst parts of his week. He adored being with Dean—the sex was quite profound— but Cas also enjoyed just spending time with him, whether or not nudity was involved. 

The downside was just as stressful as the sex was pleasant, however. The sleepovers disrupted his routine, causing him no small amount of stress and anxiety. When he slept in too late or didn’t have a change of his own clothes available, he wanted to dig his nails into his arms. Instead, he settled for the cigarettes. Dean tolerated the smoke, but always wrinkled his nose and called it “a disgusting habit.” 

That morning, Cas had woken with Dean’s arms pleasantly tight around him. He looked at the clock—it was nearly 9:30 in the morning. He stretched his free arm over to the nightstand Dean had graciously bought specifically for Cas’s ashtray and cigarettes. 

When he opened the pack, he was surprised to find it empty. He immediately grabbed his forearm and started digging his nails into the skin, finding momentary relief in the sharp pain. It was short lived as he soon he felt Dean stir against him. Cas guiltily forced his hands to relax and clasped them across his stomach.

“Hey,” murmured a sleepy voice. Dean sat up, leaning toward Cas to capture his lips for a good morning kiss, but was surprised when Cas flinched away from the contact. Dean yawned before he asked, “You okay?” 

Cas tried to respond, but he couldn’t find the words. It would be so easy to flap his hands, so he put them behind his back and gripped them tighter. 

“Cas, are you okay?” Dean asked, his voice growing concerned.

“Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up,” Cas thought loudly until, out of the repetition, a sentence finally formed.

“I’m o-out o-of ci-cigarettes,” he stuttered. Anger bloomed red in his mind; he didn’t like how broken his voice sounded. Dean rolled his eyes and shoved Cas’s shoulder playfully, making him flinch again. Dean didn’t seem to notice.

“I thought it was something serious. Good, maybe you’ll see you don’t need one every five minutes.” 

Cas faced him and growled, “I assure you I do not smoke every five minutes.”

“I know, but you have to admit you’ve been smoking more and more.” Dean shrugged.

“I don’t smoke as much when I’m home.” Cas dropped his arms into his lap and dug his nails into his palms, seeking anything to help him regain his composure. He could feel his control slipping between his fingers.

Dean cocked his head slightly to the side. “What does that mean?” he asked genuinely.

The open-ended nature of the question delayed Cas’s response for a minute or two. The stream of “shut ups” quieted down as he moved his finger nails from his palms to his thumbs. “I have clothes and my alarm clock and my own bed.” Cas rocked back and forth. He knew he hadn’t said that quite right, but he couldn’t find every word he needed when the silence in his head was growing louder. 

Dean considered what Cas said before sitting up, crossing his legs, and facing him. Cas shifted, letting his head rest against the headboard, his hands still clasped together in his lap.

“Do you want to spend tonight at your place?” he asked. 

Cas had never invited Dean to his apartment. Dean had made the occasional joke about it, but he never pressured him. Cas’s eyes went wide as he thought about it. He wasn’t sure if his place was normal enough; it certainly wasn’t anywhere near as clean as Dean’s apartment. While considering the reasons Dean should or shouldn’t come over, his thoughts were interrupted.

“Cas? Cas! What are you doing?” Dean grabbed his hands. Cas needed a moment to process the situation. His left wrist was bleeding slightly. He looked up at Dean, who seemed to be examining the miniscule puncture. Cas pulled his hands away from the contact and stood up in a panic, twitching away from Dean. He could feel his vocal cords vibrating as he hummed, trying to push away the dread that filled him. He shook his hands at his sides, just barely refraining from flapping. He needed his cigarettes immediately.

The heater clicked on and the hiss of it hurt his ears more than Dean’s shout of “Cas!” had. Cas paced and his hands finally won their freedom, flapping in the air harshly in time with his steps. He knocked over his ashtray, and the lamp beside it, when he walked desperately toward the empty pack of cigarettes. He slashed at his arms with his nails, and started counting and muttering, just trying to make everything stop. That was all he wanted—he wanted it to stop. It was just too much.

Dean walked over and tried to grab his hands again, but Cas put his hands over his ears and sat on the floor up against the bed, bringing his knees to his chest. After ten minutes, his muttering and counting stopped. A half an hour after that, he felt better for a moment until it hit him: he’d just had a meltdown in front of his boyfriend. He’d hidden everything from Dean, even most of his harmless stims.

Cas looked up from the carpet and didn’t see Dean anywhere. When he stood, his legs almost gave out. He took a moment to shake the feeling back into them before he picked up the pieces of the broken lamp and carried them to the trash. Cas hesitated when he entered the kitchen, surprised to see Dean leaning against the counter with a mug in his hands.

“Cas?” Dean set his mug down and grabbed the trashcan, bringing it closer to Castiel.

“You can break up with me if you want.” Castiel said in a monotone, dropping the broken lamp into the bin.

“Do you want me to break up with you?” Dean asked quietly.

“No.” Cas tapped his fingers gently against his thigh. Dean watched the movement before he set the bin aside, not bothering to put it back. He reached to hug Cas, but hesitated.

“Can I hug you?” Cas looked up at Dean in surprise, but nodded his acquiescence. Dean wrapped his arms around him, squeezing tightly for a second before letting go—just the way Cas liked. “What the hell happened?” Dean asked, voice brimming with concern.

Cas walked into the living room and sat down on the sofa. Dean followed and waited patiently for Cas to explain. 

After Cas got himself situated on his side of the sofa, he bit his lip and explained he was autistic. He said he had learned to control some of his more obvious "gestures" by smoking instead. Cas told Dean about how he had been bullied throughout school, but he didn’t say a word about his family or how they treated him.

“You didn’t have to hide that from me, Cas. You were just hurting yourself,” Dean said, frowning.

“I did though,” Cas replied forcefully. “You don’t want to be seen with me when I do that moronic shit,” he said, paraphrasing what his brother Michael always said before Cas started smoking.

“Don’t be stupid!” Cas flinched at the loud noise. “I’m sorry.” Dean started again more quietly, “You can’t just assume I can’t handle something without even giving me a chance. I get it, you had your reasons, but I wish I had known. I could help maybe? I love you; I want the world to know.” Even Dean blushed at how cheesy his first “I love you” was.

“I love you too,” Cas replied immediately. Dean smiled and they sat in amiable silence for a moment. 

“Want to finish this conversation at your place?” Dean asked as he stood and held out his hand to help Castiel up.

“I thought the conversation was over,” Cas said seriously, taking Dean’s hand.

“Oh, it’s far from over.” Dean smirked. “Come on, I’ll grab some clothes and my toothbrush. Mine’s the green one, right?” Cas glared; Dean had tried making that joke the night before.

"Mine's green, you ass," Cas said with a smile. Not much had changed.


End file.
